


New Year's Eve

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [13]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Ace!Q - Freeform, Ficlet, Gen, New Year's Eve, Office Party, Smoking, Taking a breather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q's tired of the whole thing. Bond does a good thing. Happy is made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a half-hour, also written while a bit more than tipsy. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! *screams and glomps people who reads this drivel ;)*

Q stepped out onto the patio behind the ground floor of the giant crypt of the main offices of MI6. He needed air and a bloody fag. Cursing at the cold air, he shook one out of his packet and stared out on Vauxhall Cross, watching the cars and buses cruise by. He fished his lighter out and lit his cigarette with shaking fingers. The first drag nearly froze his lungs, and he cursed some more.

Fairy lights still flickered along the fences and the trees and in a few windows along the street, gold and white and blue and multicoloured in ways that still made him happy. He swayed a little on his feet, making a quick note in his mind that tequila shots with Mark were a really bad idea. The Christmas party was bad enough, what with half of the Double Aughts showing up and drinking half the punch in one go and the nightmare that happened in every office party - naked or partly clothed employees running amok and puking and food fights and actual fights and things getting set on fire and somehow a farm animal is usually acquired. New Year’s was shaping up to be much of the same, only with a lot more booze. Seemed 006, 007, and 0010 wanted to make up for the sheer destruction of last year by buying an entire liquor store or two.

It’s only fair, after all. He’d quite liked that desk. And the computer. And the file cabinet. And he was still trying to figure out where the goat came from.

“Damn, it’s cold out here!” He winced and took another drag, noting the lack of feeling in his fingers already. He wouldn’t be out here at all, if it weren’t for the unwanted advances of half of Accounting, mostly women who really could do much better than a scrawny geek like him. He just needed air, and then he’d go back in. His right eye ticced. “Well…” Not that he wanted to. He didn’t do people. He didn’t do crowds. And he certainly didn’t do _parties_. And yet, he was here. The only thing that made it better was the alcohol. His glass never emptied, and for that he was eternally grateful. “Alcohol, the great social lubricant.”

He shivered violently and hunched his shoulders, ducking his head against the slight breeze that managed to make everything about ten degrees colder. The door behind him creaked open, and he cringed, expecting one of the clingy ones to latch onto his shoulder. But, instead…

“What are you doing out here, Quartermaster?” James Bond sidled up to his side, his silvertone cigarette case out and open, his very expensive blended brand pressed into the thing. Q would have to get it lined with bulletproof material soon. He blinked up at Bond.

“I’m sorry?” His teeth chattered. “Oh, I’m just.” He flicked a hand in the air, the one holding his own cigarette. “Smoking.”

“Fair.” Bond drew his lighter out and flicked it open, doing a little trick with his fingers that made flame appear like magic. Flame met the end of the tobacco, and Bond took a deep breath. Smoke streamed out of his nose. “Tad chilly out here tonight, to be out here without your parka.”

“You should talk.” Q grunted. “Yes, it’s cold. I’m freezing. But I’m finishing this before I go back in.”

“Avoiding the cougars in there?”

Q choked on smoke. “Wha? No! No, I’m -” Oh, it was no use. The git had to have seen Lily slinking against Q’s side as she pulled him out to the dance floor for yet another barely veiled attempt at seduction. “Fine. Yes. I’m avoiding all of it.”

Bond sighed out another stream of smoke. “It’s alright. It does get...overwhelming.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Q.

 _Overwhelming? Try annoying. Boring. Not my thing._ Q shook his head. “Not really. It’s just...I’m not looking for anything.”

Bond nodded. “Usually, people do on New Year’s. Someone to fuck and forget.”

Q rolled his eyes at the vulgarity. “Well, I’m not.”

“Didn’t say you were. They are.” He gestured back at the building. “Normally, I would take one or two of them off your hands, but for once, I just want to drink and then go home.”

Q looked down at his Converse. He hadn’t meant to get defensive, nor to make it sound like trying to get a leg over was a bad thing. He...it just wasn’t his _thing_. “Sorry.”

“Christ, you must be bone-cold!” Suddenly, there was a coat around his shoulders, and Bond stood in the cold in his shirtsleeves and shoulder holster. The coat was ridiculously warm both from lining and body heat. “There.”

“Oh, no. No, you will freeze, James.” Q tried to shrug his way out of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was just so warm.

“I’m fine. I’ve been trained for cold.”

“And I’m sure you’ve been trained to keep your bloody jacket on.” Q sighed and sucked on his cigarette. Bond shrugged and wrapped one arm around Q’s waist, pulling him close. Q instantly went on the defensive again, irritated at the complete disregard to what he'd been saying and ready to push or punch his way out of an embr - _wait._ He paused. _Bond...isn’t embracing me. He’s not...doing anything._ In fact, he wasn’t. All he was doing was holding Q closer to his bigger body, blocking most of the breeze and sharing the dissipating warmth. He cranked his head around to stare at Bond.

“Training. Buddy system.” Bond smirked. “Easier to keep warm when there are two of you.” He flicked his cigarette, already gone, over the fence rail, and wrapped his other arm around Q too. “Finish that, so that we don’t have to stand out here any longer.”

Q smiled, grateful for Bond suddenly.  He tossed his butt away, and the two of them retreated back into the warmth of the building.

And when Bond led Q out onto the floor to a slow waltz, one careful hand on a hip and the other at an acceptable position on Q’s shoulder, no one commented that Q seemed much happier.


End file.
